Some things that bend you- some things that broke
by Crazy4Moony
Summary: Having Malfoy on his side of the wizarding world would surely be hilarious. It would be proven that although 'hilarious' wasn't the exact word, it would definitely be some sort of entertaining. The Malfoys come over for dinner and Ron finds himself unable to look away from the boy that has been tormenting nothing but his dreams lately.
1. On the Weasley's side

**On the Weasley's side of the wizarding world (1)**

 **AN: Lucius saved Arthur from a biting chair. Yep.**

 **Also, Narcissa and Lucius had a divorce.**

 **This is after the battle of Hogwarts, before they return for their 7** **th** **year. Also cellphones are a thing. People didn't die. Things aren't painful.**

 **In my AU nothing about the Malfoy family hurts.**

 **Also I read the cursed child and why is everyone but Draco and Scorpius an asshole? I see the cursed child as more of a… spinoff than a really real epilogue, since some facts in there disproved things we already know from HP so yeah. Anywaaaay on to the story! Just go with it, okay?**

"I understand that this may be a little uncomfortable for you, but it's important to your father," Molly explained to her seven children and Harry and Hermione, fixing the tablecloth properly, "this is our chance to get over the ridiculous feud and become friends."

"Why would we _want_ to become friends with the Malfoys?" George objected, glaring at his mother.

The woman set her hands on her hips and turned to her son sternly.

"Now you listen to me George Weasley," she began angrily, and Harry and Ron exchanged a look – going against Molly was _never_ a good idea – Molly pointing a finger at the tall redhead in warning, "we might not have liked the Malfoys before, but Lucius saved your father's life! We owe them a lot, if it wasn't for him Arthur would no longer be here! So get over yourself and you better be behaving or I will have your head! Now go redress into something more proper!"

George growled darkly under his breath and headed back upstairs, his twin brother falling into step behind him.

The idea of having dinner with the Malfoys, was not as scary as Ron would have expected it to be. Actually, an irrational part of his head was kind of looking forward to it. Bill and Charlie were staying over during the summer, and they were sure to be teasing Draco in all sorts of way, which Ron was really looking forward to.

Having Malfoy on his side of the wizarding world would surely be hilarious.

It would be proven that although 'hilarious' wasn't the _exact_ word, it would definitely be some sort of entertaining.

By the time Ron and Hermione had set the table the entire house was reeking of red wine and all sorts of vegetables, a grand pot set on the fire with the beef stewing inside. The doorbell rang just as Molly was turning her stove down and Arthur went to answer it, the oldest Weasley brothers coming downstairs to greet the guests.

When the two blondes entered the kitchen, Ron couldn't help but eye the younger critically from his place in the corner. He looked ridiculously good in just simple black jeans, the fabric clinging to his hips and tight around his thighs. He was still wearing his pea coat, and it was an almost blinding white, the top of his green shirt revealed as the first three buttons were undone. His hair was combed back, but wasn't slicked with his usual hair-gel, causing some free locks to frame his face.

Molly scurried to take the boy's coat and now that the shirt was completely revealed, Ron really just wished he could roll his eyes at how bloody _perfect_ the boy was. The shirt revealed his pale underarms – one wrapped in a thick set of bandages, which everyone tried not to pointedly stare at - and the tiniest sliver of pale skin right between the green fabric and his jeans, making the skin seem strangely alluring.

Much to Ron's dismay, Bill and Charlie took to Draco immediately. The blonde sat next to the oldest Weasley brother during dinner with his father next to him, Ron across from him. Lucius and Arthur talked about work while Harry tried his best not to constantly start glaring at the smaller Malfoy.

Draco was engrossed in one of Bill's stories, but remained as refined as always, cutting his meat with scary precision and nipping from his wine without spilling. The blonde ignored all of Harry's glares and didn't notice Ron's blatant staring, even when the redhead blushed at catching himself and then abruptly turning away. Each time he wasn't squabbling with his sister or talking with Harry or Hermione, he would unconsciously turn to Draco, watching him move with ease. Charlie and Bill were fascinated by the boy as well, constantly trying to get his attention, and Ron was jealous at how easily they could talk to him.

Sometimes he really wished he and Malfoy had never started fighting in the first place. Then perhaps, talking would be equally easy for him.

Suddenly three small 'beeps' resounded over the table, and Lucius Malfoy's pale brows rumpled into a frown as his phone flew from his pocket.

"Excuse me," he scooted back in his chair as the mobile buzzed in front of his face, "it might be important."

He looked at the screen and his brows arched gracefully. He put the phone back into his pocket and pursed his lips at his son. The blonde noticed his father's expression and gave a questioning look.

"He's called ninety-nine times?" Lucius queried with his one eyebrow still raised, stern but still remarkably gentle, "Honestly, how do you ignore someone for that long?"

"It's very easy father," Draco remarked smoothly, "you shut off your phone."

Three more beeps resounded and Lucius fixed his son with a piercing look.

"Fix it," he said, pointing to the living room.

"Excuse me," Draco gave Molly a small nod – she was the hostess, after all – took his own mobile from his pocket and slid into the living room, out of view.

It was silent for a little while, as everyone mulled over the brief interruption. Before they could return to their conversation, they suddenly heard Draco's voice harden in the adjoined room. They couldn't understand what he was saying, but he was definitely angry, and with a sort of sadistic sense of glee, Ron enjoyed knowing the anger was not directed at him, for once.

Then Draco began sneering, and they could hear him talking now, even if it was only because the kitchen was so quiet.

"...try to sweet-talk me Zabini," Ron and Harry exchanged a surprised look, seeing how Blaise Zabini was Draco's best friend, "you can't _buy_ your way out of this one!"

A small pause indicated that the other boy was talking now, and though Ron felt a little bad for eavesdropping, none of the others seemed interested in restarting their conversation, instead intent on listening to the fight in the other room. Lucius was looking at the door with a frown, and Ron figured the man had no idea of what was going on either.

"Now you listen to me you little twat," Draco spat – the Weasleys jumping at the sudden outburst, Lucius rolling his eyes, "I was gone for _two_ weeks and you went and fucked your housekeeper's son! Have you any idea how _degrading_ that is? When we started _this_ , we _agreed_ to be exclusive, or did you forget about that?"

Molly's mouth dropped in shock and Bill and Charlie had to repress a chuckle at the coarse language. Ron was not as amused. Since when was Malfoy _queer_?

"No," Draco sounded resolute, his voice hitching, "no, Blaise, _no_. We're not talking about this anymore. You really think I ever want to see you _naked_ again, now that I know where your prick's been? I think not. Sod off."

There's another silence and they knew Blaise was trying to find a decent reply, which _honestly_ , there wasn't.

"Stop saying you love me," Draco sounded repulsed, "you don't know what love is."

Ron felt his gut churn but ignored the feeling. Suddenly, he didn't want to hear the conversation anymore, because it was painfully obvious that _yes,_ Malfoy was queer, and _yes_ , he was in a relationship with his alleged best friend.

"That's ridiculous," Draco snapped, "I know I may not have made many promises of our future but I would have _never_ cheated on you. And honestly! The least you could've done is fuck Harry Potter, at least he's famous!"

Harry spluttered indignantly and Hermione almost choked on her drink. Ron wished he could shut off the conversation, because there was a tone in Draco's voice he had never heard before.

"No. You are out of my heart," Draco hurt, and even if he wasn't talking to any of them, they can't help but gasp – everyone but Lucius, who was used to the cold voice, a trademark the Malfoys shared like their blonde hair and grey eyes, "Blaise, if you come near the mansion, I will set my father's peacocks on you, are we clear?"

They knew the Malfoy boy didn't wait for a reply, because the phone snapped shut a mere moment later. Draco appeared back into the kitchen, apologising for his departure, and continued eating as if nothing had happened.

Ron was left with the churning in his stomach, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what it meant.

 **AN: so this is like… just a little teaser you know, to get peeps excited for it, if you guys want it! I wasn't planning on posting until I'd finished writing it, but it's become so long already I figured posting might actually inspire me to keep going.**


	2. Hangover Sloppiness

**Hangover sloppiness (2)**

"...and this is Percy's room," Ron gave a point to the door, "we can't go in though, he's a neat freak and always locks his door."

"You're really at unease, aren't you?" Draco chuckled when the redhead ran a hand through his hair again – the fourth time in a mere minute – a sign of his nerves.

"Doesn't matter, you wanted to see the house, didn't you?" Ron gave him a questioning look.

The adults had retreated outside after dinner with some more wine, and as far as Ron knew, all his siblings had gathered in the attic. Bill and Charlie slept there now, and they kept a rather illegal brand of firewhiskey in their room. The other Weasleys had left Ron and Draco in favour of the strong liquor, and the blonde had politely asked for a tour, in lack of anything better to do.

"If I'd known it would make you this uneasy, I wouldn't have," Draco merely shrugged, "do I scare you?"

"No, of course not," Ron's ears burned red and he glared, "it's just... weird."

"Only a little," Draco teased, laughing again. It was a wonderful sound, and Ron felt blessed at being at the receiving end of that laugh, a wonderfully bright sound filling the empty hallway, "You can join your brothers, I'll be fine."

"Well, come with me then," Ron insisted, knowing his mother would deem him impolite if he left the boy on his own, "Bill and Charlie asked you to anyway, they won't mind one bit."

"Alright," Draco nodded, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans – and Ron pretended not to notice how it caused them to slide down, revealing more pale skin – a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth, "lead the way."

Ron went up the flights of stairs with two steps at a time, but only so he could wait for Draco on the landing and watch the boy come up after him. His hips curved when he mounted a step, and he moved easily, perfectly fit in his own body. Ron often felt a bit lanky, and he didn't like that he was so tall and burly, but the Malfoy was just _perfect_.

When they reached the stairs that would lead them to the attic, they could hear music coming from above them. Ron frowned and went up first, chuckling when he was met with the sight of his siblings dancing like idiots. Hermione looked scared to death as Fred danced with her – her eyes wide in shock – and Harry was doing some very impressive hip twirls in the corner.

They were off their rocks drunk.

Bill and Charlie were the only ones not dancing, seated on one of the twin beds by the far wall. They were talking in quiet, passing a dark purple bottle between the two of them.

Draco made a noise of distaste when he entered the room behind Ron, and it was the redhead's time to laugh. He beckoned the blonde to follow him, and headed over to his oldest brothers.

"Ronnikins!" Charlie cried in greeting, "Finally! Oh, and you brought eye-candy! How considerate of you!"

Draco scowled and Bill grinned, taking a swig from the oddly coloured bottle.

"Take a seat," he patted the bed next to him, "have a drink."

Ron flopped down onto the bed, and Draco followed suit, though he eyed the bottle suspiciously. At the distrustful look, Ron rolled his eyes and took it from his brother, taking a large gulp. It wasn't the first time Charlie smuggled in liquor from Romania, and though it was always very strong and left a nice burn in the throat, it had never proven to be actually dangerous.

When Draco was still reluctant to take a sip, Bill wrapped an arm around the blonde's shoulders. Draco tried prying him off and Ron wanted to glare but refrained.

"Don't worry Drake," Bill cooed, "just look at it this way. We're all drunk. No one'll give a fuck if you are too."

Draco pushed the broad redhead off and snatched the drink from Ron's hand.

"Tell my father I drank this and I kill you," he swore, and without further ado took a large gulp from the bottle.

Ron had expected him to cringe, if only a little, but the Malfoy wasn't fazed in the slightest. He handed the bottle back to Charlie, and allowed Bill to pull him off the bed.

Charlie and Ron watched their older brother dance with the small blonde, and even though rage settled in Ron's stomach, he couldn't turn away.

The blonde's hips moved in time with the music, and he was the only one of the entire group doing a proper job at moving to the music, his ever-present grace curving his body just _so_ to give Ron a most sensual show.

"He's real pretty, ain't he?" Charlie slurred suddenly, breaking Ron from his reverie.

Ron felt caught, knowing his brother had noticed him staring. He tried to turn it around and joked: "who, Bill?"

"Bill isn't _pretty_ ," Charlie chided, "Bill's manly and rugged and handsome. I meant the Malfoy kid. He's gorgeous."

Ron didn't know how to answer to that and instead just watched as the broader hips swayed enchanting circles, until all he could see was the dimple in the pale back running down into his plump arse, and the hair that was so close to gold it was silver.

The patterns he made were irregular but flowed into one another, creating something not of this world and completely new and Ron _knew_ , that if he could just stay there forever, he would be perfectly happy to do so for the rest of his life.

Even when Malfoy left that evening, the image remained clear in his mind, and no amount of imported Romanian whiskey could burn the sight off his retina.

When he crawled into bed that night, he found Malfoy's mobile on his bedroom floor – it was the first room he'd showed the boy – and a sort of calm washed over him as he fell asleep, knowing he now had something the blonde wanted.

"I'm sick of going over this with you," Draco Malfoy, was _not_ pleased.

His plan had been to sleep until noon and then maybe have a little lunch out on the patio but that had been proven to be a vain hope when his father had woken him at seven in the morning. The man had been called out to the ministry and had urged Draco to keep his cell phone close in case something happened.

When Draco had then realised he hadn't the faintest clue as to _where_ his mobile phone was, he had known that it would be a bad day.

He had gotten out of bed quickly, wrapping a silk robe around himself on his way to his wardrobe, and had searched the pockets of his jeans frantically.

The doorbell had stopped this brief search, and he opened the front door, unbeknownst to the exact lengths this 'bad day' would go to.

Ever since, he had been fighting with Blaise Zabini – ex-boyfriend _and_ ex-best friend – and the boy just would _not_ take no for an answer.

"Baby, you gotta give me one more chance," the dark boy pled, and when he tried grasping Draco's hand, the blonde pulled back, "I'm _so_ sorry."

"I'm not giving you another chance just so you can cheat on me again," Draco replied sternly, keeping his cool, even though the other boy was close to breaking down, "I don't care how many times you apologise."

"But baby—" he was cut off when the doorbell rang but then continued: "I didn't even _like_ it! Nothing compares to your fucking gor—"

"Will you shut up, there's company," Draco snapped, effectively cutting off his litany of praise.

Truth was, Draco wasn't quite sure he could take another speech of how _perfect_ he was. If he was so goddamned perfect, then why the hell did his best friend betray him?

He opened the door to a flustered Ron Weasley and though he was very much aware of how this should be bugging him, he couldn't bring himself to it. The redhead was doing that thing where he was half-smiling, and was scratching his neck sheepishly, which made him more adorable than Draco cared to admit.

He had just gotten out of his friends-with-benefits relationship. He had been very fond of Blaise. This was not the time to drool over Weasel.

"Hey," Ron greeted awkwardly, giving a small wave of his hand. He licked his lips unconsciously when he saw Draco – his pale legs covered only by a silk fabric not worth the name of 'shorts', a matching shirt covering half his chest with most buttons undone and a robe hanging open around his shoulders, the threads loosely tied together – but then his eyes fell on Blaise and he bit his lip at his own stupidity, "I'm sorry, I'm interrupting."

"Of course not," Draco opened the door properly to invite the boy in, "please. Zabini was just leaving."

"No I wasn't," Blaise snapped, glaring at the redhead. He put a hand on his hip and turned to Draco, "we are not done talking. Kick him out."

"No," Draco's voice was cold as stone, and Ron was glad not to be on the receiving end of it, as he had been many times before, "there's nothing left to say. Leave."

"Seriously baby, I'm that easy to replace?" Blaise sounded truthfully hurt, and if Ron had not overheard their conversations the day before, he might have felt sorry for him, "We haven't even been fighting for a whole damn week and you're already shagging the Weasley!"

"I'm done discussing this with you," Draco pointed resolutely to the door, which he still kept open, "Go fuck your housekeeper's son, I'm sure he'll be happy to get on his knees for you. As for me, I'm done. We're through."

"Drake—"

" _Out_ ," he didn't even need to raise his voice for the command to reverberate through the grand hallway. It shook the crystal chandelier and made Ron's skin crawl.

Draco's index finger was still pointing outside, and Blaise knew better than to disobey this time. Unspoken threats from Draco were by no means empty. The raven left with a last glare at Ron, and Draco shut the door behind him, the heavy wood creaking in its hinges.

"You didn't even slam it," Ron remarked silently, amazed at how Draco could still stay so composed.

"Just because I'm gay does not mean I slam doors Weasley," Draco said, no real malice, turning to face the redhead.

"I would've," Ron shrugged, "if he'd done to me what he's done to you. I would've slammed it hard."

"I'll remember that," the blonde looked at him with a strange stubbornness in his eyes, and Ron felt as if he was determined to sort him out, "would you like something to drink?"

"Erm... soda or something?" Ron was a little surprised by how easy it was for Draco to just fall into place like that. As if he had invited Ron over in the first place.

As if Ron hadn't just watched him fight with what he supposed was now Draco's ex-boyfriend.

He wasn't sure he would ever be able to handle change so easily, but figured perhaps maybe Draco was used to this. Perhaps it just ran in his family, that everlasting grace, that mask that hid all real emotions, hid every hint of confusion and made every smile seem like something played and vague, as if it was not really there, but nonetheless the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

The blonde turned and beckoned Ron to follow with a curve of his finger. He led him to the kitchen, bare-foot, the silk robe swishing behind him majestically, his pale thighs revealed to Ron if the redhead stayed behind a little, just visible under the seam of the flying robe.

He let Ron sit at the kitchen table—the whole room was spic-and-span, smelling of polished silverware and cleaning products and something of _roses_ —and Draco took a can of Chester's chilled cherry soda from the fridge.

"Is this okay?" he asked, holding the can up so Ron could see.

The redhead just nodded, shifting a bit uncomfortably on his chair. Everything in the Malfoy's manor was so _special_. He felt as if he could break one of those expensive vases by just _looking_ at it, and when Draco poured the drink into a crystal glass Ron had to flinch at how _easy_ it was for him to just act as if he was merely holding a plastic cup. Nothing about the luxury of the kitchen seemed to phase the Malfoy, even though Ron was awed.

He tried to hide his uneasiness, knowing that this was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and he needed to make the best out of it. He could always _feign_ ignorance.

Who the hell needed a crystal punch bowl, anyway?

"So," Draco watched Ron take his first sip of the drink and waited for him to let out a petite sigh of contentment—always remembering that pleasing your guests is an honour worth the pursuit—before he continued: "I'm always up for unannounced company, though I have a feeling you did not come just to see me in my pyjamas and drink soda in my kitchen."

He seated himself across from Ron, and the redhead couldn't help but blush at the words. Of course Malfoy had no way of knowing that Ron had been staring at any revealed skin of his thighs, but that did not make the comment any less embarrassing to Ron.

Luckily, there had been a teasing tone set to the words, which made Ron realise he was only joking. Still, he felt his cheeks warm, and averted his gaze to his own feet.

"You forgot something yesterday," Ron muttered, more to his blue jeans than to his companion, "I found your phone on my night stand this morning."

"You did?" he could not keep the excitement from his voice, and when Ron looked up curiously, Malfoy was smiling.

It was the most beautiful thing Ron had ever seen in his whole entire life.

All he could do was nod.

"And you came all the way here to return it?" one eyebrow flit up with ease, a sign that usually meant Draco was not buying whatever crap you were offering, but there was also a fondness in his smile still present, and that relaxed Ron somewhat.

"Yeah," he shrugged, and felt himself grin without wanting to.

Draco said nothing, but his smile stayed present as he watched Ron take another drink. From the corner of his eyes he could see the blonde cross one leg over the other, and he sat sideways, so his slender limbs were perfectly visible. Even if Ron tried really hard not to look, it was futile, and he stopped fighting the urge, allowing his gaze to take in all the fine marble skin presented to him, beginning at his just-right slim ankle, all the way up over his calves and knees to the silk fabric of his shorts.

It was impossible to deny. Draco Malfoy was gorgeous.

Draco offered Ron a tour of the house, to return him the favour of showing the blonde around his own home the other night. It was a little strange to follow the Malfoy around, talking to him like nothing had ever gone wrong and that was such a lie, which made Ron feel a little queasy to think about it.

Now that they were talking, he realised Draco could have been one of his best friends. Perhaps even _more_ , but that was a thought Ron tried to leave well alone, knowing it would lead nowhere good. He should get over any pubescent crush he thought he had before, because now that they were talking like two civilised people, he really didn't want to mess it up.

By the time he had been shown around the first floor, Ron's opinion of 'behaving like two civilised people' and 'getting along' had completely changed. His heart stopped still quite ostentatiously whenever Draco smiled or laughed or merely looked his way and it was saying more than all those years of fighting ever did.

When they arrived at Draco's bedroom they suddenly halted. They had been talking quite avidly about Quidditch but the conversation abruptly stopped when they reached the set of doors. The blonde turned to Ron as if he wanted to say something, or as though he perhaps doubted letting him into the room. For a second, the air was stifling, and Ron went rigid at the sudden proximity he himself had caused, by walking on while his companion had already stopped.

Though Draco was tall, Ron towered over him, and there was a sort of determination set in Draco's jaw, his eyes cold and piercing, trying to read Ron's own. He was certain now, that the Malfoy simply didn't know if letting him into his bedroom was such a good idea.

Ron did not know why he did it, but for some reason the whole 'friendship' thing seemed redundant if he did not allow himself to admit that _yes,_ he had been crushing on Malfoy, for quite a while now. And the only reason it was outed in that moment was because Draco had smiled at him, and that was one of the things that drove Ron mad, just that before, those smiles had always been for someone else, while now, they were for Ron's eyes only.

When Ron brought his lips down onto Draco's, he had no idea what he was doing exactly, and if doing it was even such a good idea. All he knew was that he had reached out to cup the blonde's cheek in his palm, and that it had felt absolutely perfect to have that soft flesh pressed against his own. It was like someone had turned on the light inside Ron's head, and for some reason, the faint pressure of mouth-pressed-to-mouth made everything crystal clear. Before he could ponder the exact extend of his crush further, he pulled back in shock at his own boldness.

He rushed out of the house before Malfoy could even call his name, his ears flaming red with embarrassment.


	3. Intellectual Seduction

**Intellectual seduction (3)**

 **AN: this story is more of a modernday AU in which electronics etc are more absorbed into the wizarding world as well. Also, not now, but later, there will be references to contemporary music. Just so you know! Just go with it pleaaaaase!**

It was seven p.m. and hot as hell. Draco had to admit that he had been surprised before. He had not expected to have the Weasley in his house, and he had not expected that he would be improperly dressed when that occasion did arrive.

Now, he was fully aware of the fact that he was dressed improperly, but that did not matter because it was exactly the kind of improper that made Blaise wish he had never been born, _in the best of ways_ , and if it was good enough for that punk, it would do good for the Weasley as well.

He was wearing tight marine blue shorts and a red t-shirt when he knocked on the Weasley's door, and he was going to make the Weasley pay for messing with him. He was a Malfoy, he was _not_ to be messed with. If that Weasley thought he would just let him fuck his head up like that, he had something else coming.

Molly opened the door with a sort of hesitance, her eyes widening as soon as she saw Draco standing there. Unconsciously, her look followed down his chest and to his half-revealed thighs, but Draco just smiled politely.

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this time misses Weasley," he easily charmed his way into an excuse, "I was wondering if it would be okay if I came to visit Ronald?"

The woman blinked stupidly, before recovering.

"Yes of course, please come in mister Malfoy," she opened the door widely to invite him into her cosy home, before pointing at the stairs, "he's in his room with his friends, would you like me to show you the way?"

"That's fine, I remember from the other night," Draco granted her a quick quirk of the lips, before he left for the upper floors of the house.

As soon as he mounted the staircase, the smile morphed into a scowl. He was absolutely outraged that that redheaded oaf thought he could be played with that easily. It wasn't because he was ruggedly handsome and those big hands meant wonderful things for Draco's cock that he was just going to roll over and play dead. He was no-one's _hole_ to fuck, and a kiss from his mouth cost more than just a little sweet talking while touring the house.

He arrived at the desired floor, and headed directly over to the Weasley's bedroom door. One of the twins passed him on the way down, but at the sight of his scowl, they wisely decided not to try and engage in conversation with him.

Without announcing himself, no matter how impolite that may be, he swung the door open.

Weasley, Pothead, Granger and the Weasley's sister, were seated on the carpet, between the twin beds. All four of them looked up wide-eyed, like dear caught in headlights, at the burst of the door. Draco saw Weasley quite visibly flinch, and knew the boy was fully aware of why he was there.

"Weasley, out, _now_ ," he demanded, pointing back at the hallway where he had just come from.

The ginger girl squeaked.

"Me?"

"Of course not," Draco snapped, "For Merlin's sake freckles, don't make me make you."

He tapped his foot impatiently, and Ron got up, his blush staining over his cheeks and to his ears. His friends gazed at him in surprise as he listlessly followed the blonde's command. The door was closed behind him, and Ron stood there a bit sheepishly, doing whatever he could not to look Draco in the eye.

"You kissed me," Draco stated simply.

The Weasley wrapped his arms around himself for comfort. Then he nodded.

Draco took a step closer. Immediately, the red head shot up, their eyes locking. It was silly, but Ron's eyes were deep enough to drown in, swirling with all sorts of navy and indigo and cyan.

A slender wrist reached out and took a grab of Ron's chin. He kept it stable as he demanded: "why?"

He could feel the Weasley swallow against his palm and his own heart skipped a beat. They were suddenly much closer than Draco had intended, and he realised he had unwittingly took another step closer to the boy. He knew this was not a good time to notice the Weasley had those damned adorable freckles even above his brow, but he couldn't help himself.

"I—I wanted to," the Weasley stuttered, his surprise showing well and full on his face, on the contrary to Draco's.

"Not good enough Weasley," Draco answered smoothly, keeping their eyes locked.

He saw a darker colour cloud the acid-blue, and the ears burned even brighter. Draco simply waited.

"I don't know, okay," he snapped suddenly, lowering his eyes in shame, despite the fingers around his chin, "I just realised that you could've been my best friend, but then that seemed all messed up because I didn't want you to be my best friend, I wanted to hold your hand and do stupid lovey-dovey things and I couldn't let that one chance go because we were close and I knew it might never happen again and I needed to kiss you because not-kissing seemed like the worst mis—"

Draco cut off Ron's rambling with a delicately posed order: "if you're trying to tell me you have a crush on me, nod," and as Ron felt his cheeks gain a deeper blush, he nodded.

There was a moment of silence.

Then Draco cupped Ron's cheek more comfortably, sliding his tips over the soft skin before his ear. Ron gasped softly, but Draco stole the sound by placing his lips atop the redhead's mouth, meeting him in a kiss.

It was brief, but only because Draco made it so. He pulled back before he could give in to the urge to open his lips and venture out his tongue. He was falling for the redhead without the boy even trying, and in a strangely irrational way, it was really pissing Draco off.

He searched the baby-blue's for any sign of hesitance, distrust or a plain, blatant lie. When he found only that shade of blue that seemed to swirl up whenever Ron laughed, he nodded, pleased.

"Good," he said with a small quirk of the lips.

"So..." Ron pushed a lock of his red hair back behind his ear, looking up with his blush finally settling down, "we'll... date?"

"Do you want us to?" Draco asked, moving back a little in case the Weasley wanted his space.

Ron's hands shot out to grasp his pale hips, forcing him to remain close. He watched as Draco blinked languidly, before pulling the hips towards his own, nodding.

"Then we will," Draco established.

"Are you just using me?" Ron asked in a small voice, all his former bravura suddenly gone. He let go of Draco's hips, and the blonde really wished he wouldn't.

"I don't want another friend-with-benefits," the blonde promised, keeping his tone cautious, "you could've been my best friend, but that's not really what I want either. If I was using you, I wouldn't let you kiss me."

At this, Ron reached out and brought their lips together again, looking for the reassurance Draco gladly gave. This time, Draco waited for Ron to initiate a deeper kiss, and as soon as the boy realised Draco was not going to pull away, he did so enthusiastically. Opening his mouth, he easily pried the pink lips open, tasting the Malfoy eagerly.

"You taste like watermelon," Ron chuckled when they parted, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"You're daft Weasley," he smirked when Ron's hands found his hips again, his eyes travelling down his body, stranding on his thighs, "I'll be off."

Before he could put his words into actions, Ron's big hands meshed their waists together again, and the redhead's lips roved his own. They were panting when they parted, but Draco raised a delicate eyebrow, hiding the blush he felt was taking over his entire body.

"Just to be sure," the Weasley shrugged, and Draco left, laughing aloud.

Ron was nervous and late. He did not like being either, but it had taken him much longer than expected to sneak out from under Harry and Hermione's vigilant eye. Nerves, were inevitable.

He had to admit that he was beyond infatuated. He could not help it, at first, when he was still in fourth grade, he had thought his attraction to the Malfoy had been purely sexual. The boy was a downright arsehole, but he was sexy. When he had discovered that Draco was actually rather nice, and that they had a lot in common, surprisingly, whatever it had been before had amounted to a full-out crush. He had thought having Malfoy on his side of the wizarding world would have been amusing, but it had been a whole different kind of amusing for Ron.

Ron couldn't explain it to himself, but then again, he knew he did not really need an explanation. He had fallen, was completely _smitten_ , and there was no point in denying it. He got up early to call the boy's mobile in the mornings and he stayed up far past Harry just to hear the blonde's voice at night, before he was off to bed. He liked that he had gotten to know the other boy better, and it had come to a point where he could not imagine life without him. Even though they had only established their strange sort of begrudging friendship for about three weeks, and they still referred to each other as 'Malfoy' and 'Weasley' half the times, Ron cherished the relationship. He had never had something like he had with Draco. He had had Lavender in sixth year, but that was not comparable in any way.

When they talked, they quibbled, in that light teasing voice Ron adored. It wasn't fighting, like they did before, it was playful and just little banter. They could talk about serious things too, though they had not yet shared anything too intimate. Ron understood that things like that would come with time, but it was still nice to know that he could discuss chess with the Malfoy without having to explain the rules for the umpteenth time, like he had to with Harry. It was simply _different_ , because though he really loved Harry to pieces, Draco did not have to try to understand chess, he simply _did_.

They talked about Quidditch too, and about the games they had seen when they were still younger. Racing brooms were one of their most discussed subjects, but they could just as easily drift off about Florian Fortesque's ice cream flavours. It was strange, how quickly all of this had gone, but Ron was not about to complain.

He apparated to one of the side-streets of the restaurant where they were meeting, and his stomach turned and did a summersault as he thought about it. He was about to have a date with Draco Malfoy.

The fact that it did not sound nearly as ridiculous as it should have, was oddly reassuring.

As soon as he turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Draco was already waiting for him, and it made Ron laugh, because could that boy ever be anything but _perfect_?

He had a gorgeous ass in the jeans he was wearing—Ron inwardly scolded himself, since the Malfoy _always_ had a gorgeous ass—made out of a very deep red fabric, tight around his thighs and calves. Draco's figure was like one of an hourglass, he had a slim waistline but broad hips, which was a little girly, but it suited him entirely too well. He was perfectly fit in his own body, and he always did everything he could to bring out his own best features, Ron knew that just as well. He had strong thighs, and they were visible in his jeans, but Ron also knew his muscles were fine. He had seen those milky legs naked, and he knew that his muscles were not bulking, but instead ran under inches of soft flesh, hidden but definitely there.

The shirt was sailor-striped in blue and white, and it was cut out to reveal his collar bone slightly. If Ron had not seen the boy in his pyjamas before, he would have worried about that, since the bones of his collar were clearly visible, dipping in to the hollow of his throat. As it was, he knew that although Draco was skinny, he was not sickly so. He was just _right_ , absolutely gorgeous, jacket lose around his shoulders, and it seemed as if he was using it to fan himself a little, the evening-air too hot.

He had to be still and catch his breath for a little while, the sight of Draco making him feel light-headed. When he realised that he was already late, and that Draco surely wouldn't appreciate his tardiness, he hurried to reach the blonde.

"You're late," Draco said as a manner of greeting, turning his grey eyes on Ron sternly.

"I'm sorry," the redhead apologised, and his look shifted from Draco, to the restaurant he was waiting in front of, "Draco... are you sure this is okay?"

" _This_?" Draco queried, one eyebrow raising delicately.

"You know it's a muggle place, right?"

Ron had been nervous when he had asked the Malfoy out on their first official date. It wasn't per say the occurrence itself, but the fact that the only good and affordable restaurants Ron knew were all muggle establishments.

"Have you mentioned this before?" Ron felt his stomach sink, but then the corner of Draco's mouth twirled up, and just like that it was made clear that he was teasing.

"Three times or so," Ron chortled, feeling safe to carefully lean a little closer.

"And what did I say, those three times?" Draco continued, smile widening when the redhead approached him further.

"That it was fine," Ron smiled too, because seeing the Malfoy smile was one of those things he had never experienced before, and he needed to cherish every quirk of the lips, in fear of having them be lost forever.

"Would I lie to you Weasley?" Draco linked his fingers in the cuffs of Ron's black shirt, tugging the collar closer.

They were inches apart, and Ron could _feel_ Draco's breath on his mouth.

"I would like to believe you wouldn't," he replied truthfully, anxiously awaiting Draco's response to that.

"Good boy," the blonde purred—a sound so sensual Ron felt his heart stutter—before bringing Ron in that inch closer, "I'm going to kiss you now."

He waited for the brush of lips that was sure to come, and felt his breath catch in his throat when the warm pressure melted with his own mouth. They shifted, and Ron opened his lips in question, Draco accommodating his own to the silent request.

Draco felt broad hands set on his hips, and revelled in the gesture. He was usually very stoic and a little cold towards others, but he enjoyed being held while he was kissed, and, no matter how sappy he found it, Weasley held him _just right_.

They parted with some hesitance, Ron by now fully cradling the blonde's waist in his arms. Draco gave Ron a long look, which made the redhead feel as if his companion was trying to see right through him, into his soul. Then, he stroked a hand through the flaming red hair, Ron's eyes fluttering softly at the motion.

"Next time," Draco murmured, placing a kiss in the corner of the redhead's mouth, "don't be late."

Ron would have expected Draco to be spoiled and hold high standards. He had expected the boy to be outgrossed by anything not chic enough to match his taste, and for him to demand to be served on his every whim.

The restaurant they went to was cosy and nice, but it wasn't exactly fancy and Ron panicked because of that. Draco however, handled the redhead's stress with the utmost care, and did whatever he could do to prove to him that he was okay with his choice of restaurant. They had a really nice dinner, and even though Draco talked avidly with him, Ron constantly worried. He had never gone on a real date before, nothing could really compare to what he had with Draco, or to what he felt for the blonde. He was nervous he would say something, sooner or later, that would mess everything up. All he could think about was how Draco had been in a relationship with Blaise Zabini, who was known for his stunning looks, his self-confidence, and his utter charm. Though Draco had told him they had just been friends with benefits, Ron still worried. How could he ever measure up to someone as experienced as Blaise?

"Ron?" he was shaken from his thoughts when he felt a squeeze in his hand, an electric current running from their touching fingers to his elbow and up all the way, "Is something wrong?"

He blinked unceremoniously, before faking a smile: "no, of course not."

Abruptly, Draco let go of his hand, and the sudden brush of cold air made Ron miss the heat more than he should.

"Don't lie to me Weasley," the blonde snapped maliciously, "as if I would not be able to tell."

Panicking, Ron grasped Draco's hand back into his own, squeezing it too tightly to be comfortable—but for once, no snarky remark slipped from the blonde's mouth, since he could clearly notice the boy's distress—helplessly searching for words to explain. His eyes were widened, the blue practically wild and Draco took pity on him, and offered his consolation in the form of a cautious pet against the palm of his hand.

"I'm sorry," Weasley managed to wheeze out, "I can't help it, I'm nervous... I've never been on a date before."

Draco smiled, and he gave the freckled hand a small pet as if the comfort him wordlessly.

"Don't worry about it, you're doing great so far," the quirk of lips was so upright Ron visibly relaxed, and managed to find the sense to hold onto Draco's hand more gently, "It's just like when we talked on the phone except that now we get to see each other, which is a definite pro to me."

Ron laughed at the remark and the tension seemed to disappear completely. They returned to their earlier conversation about Ron's Quidditch-player-future wish, and even though Ron felt a little bit idiotic for being so insistent, he refused to release Draco's hand until their dessert arrived. With the disturbing thoughts about Blaise currently banned from his head, it was much easier to give the blonde his undivided attention, which made the whole ordeal even more enjoyable. Even when they weren't talking, it never got awkward because then Ron would look at Draco and Draco would be looking at him and they would both smile and there would be a mutual understanding between them, no words needed.

The only bickering occurred when the check arrived and Ron insisted on paying. Draco swore it was not a problem for him to pay, but Ron reasoned that he had asked him out on the date, which meant all the expenses should rightfully be his, like his mother taught him. Next time, Draco had said, he was paying, and though the mention of a next time made his heart flutter, he tried not to show it. Draco noticed anyways, the sheepish smile a bog indicator.

When they got out of the restaurant, they were both stalling.

"I don't want to go," Ron admitted in a small voice, his cheeks heating with a blush.

"Walk me home," Draco ordered, his voice ever-stern and Ron knew that even if he had _wanted_ to object, it would not have been a good idea.

They apparated to right outside the mansion's gates—when Draco grasped his hand, Ron tried not to squeal, but he made a point of not letting go of the pale one once he had it in his own—and then they walked up to the front door together in a silence that was utterly comfortable. Everything about the night they had shared was absolutely perfect to Ron, and even though he was very glad he had finally gotten to experience it, he was still saddened that it had ended so soon. To Ron, it felt as if it should have gone on forever.

He didn't want to think of how now, he would have to go back home, and the next time he would hear Draco's voice again, it would be through the rotten static of the telephone.

His voice was so much nicer in real life.

"Thank you," they halted when they reached the front door, and Ron smiled—a truly, uprightly happy smile—averting his eyes from Draco's questioning gaze, "I'm really glad you were willing to go out with me. I had an amazing time."

Draco took a cautious step forward—not wanting to frighten the redhead—and took a firm grasp of his chin. With their eyes meeting, there was nowhere for Ron to hide, but he didn't want to; it felt safe, to be locked in by those shades of grey, everything from silver to ashen.

"I was waiting for you to ask me out ever since our first phone call," he said matter-of-factly, skilfully concealing any emotion that could be reflected in his voice.

A blush crept up to Ron's cheeks at the information, and Draco hummed, pleased. Then suddenly Ron was holding his hips and their lips met. Before Ronald could reconsider the action and pull back, the blonde's fingers dug into his strong forearms, forcing them to stay in place as he kissed back passionately.

It was like melting, Draco decided. His whole body inched into the Weasley and he wanted nothing more but to be done with clothes and skin, just so they could be one, just smashed together with not even _space to breathe_ between them.

His own reaction scared him a little—if not a lot—because no matter how likeable Ron had turned out to be, he was still Pothead's best friend and that probably couldn't be a very good thing. Not to mention that Draco was a _Malfoy_ , and Malfoys didn't fall so easily, it was terribly unbefitting.

This rather disturbing train of thought was halted when Ron's hand invaded the bare space between his shirt and jeans, a warm palm pressing into his lower back. His hips were canted forward to meet the redhead's, and Draco shuddered pleasurably.

Momentarily, they separated, dimly-lit blue meeting liquid silver, and then they were kissing again, Draco's hands twining in fury-red locks.

There was a sudden cough and Ron pulled back so fast Draco was a little impressed.

"The alarm is going crazy," Lucius stated with a yawn, clad in silk pyjamas and holding the door open to welcome the two teens into the mansion, "please continue inside."

Ron's eyes were so wide Draco feared they might have popped out at some point, and he watched with mild amusement as the boy stuttered his apologies.

"Mister Malfoy! We weren't... I mean, I wasn't... I would never—"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he was unaware of the fact that I know the two of you are dating," Lucius closed the door with a frown, piercing the redhead with his stare.

Ron gulped audibly, the tips of his ears burning red.

"You told him?" his voice was filled with disbelief, his eyes blinking sluggishly.

Draco rose a delicate brow and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"No, of course not," he stated in monotone, "I decided to sneak out of the house and hope he wouldn't notice my disappearance."

When Ron's blush spread to his cheeks as well, and he lowered his eyes to the floor, Draco's second brow joined his first.

"Did _you_ decide to sneak out of the house and hope your parents wouldn't notice your disappearance?" Ron visibly flinched at the stern tone, and Lucius took one look at the Weasley before deciding he _really_ did not want to be there for the poor boy's demise.

"Right," he cleared his throat, "I'll be off to bed. If you need something to throw, please take one of your _mother'_ s vases."

It wasn't until Lucius' footsteps had completely disappeared up the marble staircase, that Ron dared to look up and once more face the other boy.

One of the many downsides of always talking to each other on the phone was that Ron could not predict the blonde's mood unless he spoke.

"Draco..." the silence was killing him and he wouldn't let it. He took the pale upper-arm in what he hoped was a comforting motion, and when Draco didn't pull away from his grasp he sighed in relief, "I was nervous and didn't know how to tell them. You've met my brothers, I know it's no excuse, but..." Draco's silence was starting to worry him, and he bit his lip in concern, "I'll tell my parents tonight, I promise."

"It's alright," his voice was cold but not per say uncaring, and Ron identified it as merely pensive and sleek—the voice he used when he was keeping up the Malfoy mask, though had to begrudgingly admit defeat, "I've not yet given you reason to trust me. It was foolish to expect you to jeopardise your place in your family like that."

"No, that's not..." Ron couldn't stand the sort of ambiguity that held, as if Draco was the one responsible for Ron's idiocy, "I was nervous and afraid, but my insecurity has nothing to do with you."

Draco's eyes softened and he squeezed the redhead's bigger hand in his pale fingers, a frown coming to grace his features.

"There's no need to be insecure about anything," he stated matter-of-factly, "we're both new to this, so it's fair, right?"

Ronald gave him a look of disbelief, at which Draco rolled his eyes.

"Listen, what Blaise and I had, that's nothing like this, we'd been friends for so long it seemed rather stupid _not_ to go to the next level together but when it comes to dating..." Draco shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly, almost painfully so, "I'm just as new to this as you are. Blaise doesn't count."

"But you loved him," Ron pressed, although he knew he very well shouldn't. His insecurities were now winning it from his nerves and the question had been in his head ever since he had heard the blonde on the phone with his supposed best friend. How had they managed to overlook the fact that Malfoy was _in love_ with another guy?

"I've told you this already," Draco sighed, exasperated but patient, "It's true that I loved him but ever since I found out he couldn't keep it zipped up for two weeks all I've felt is repulsion. The way I loved him is also not quite the usual way, I was very fond of him, indeed, but I was never actually _in love_ with him. What we had was comfortable, something you get acquainted to. But it's over now."

When no reply came, and Ron's look remained blank, the blonde shifted. He gave the freckled hand another squeeze, forcing a glimpse of a smile from the redhead.

"Ronald, I would not lie about something like this," he promised. His voice was so stern, Ron felt very inclined to believe him, but there was that little voice in his head screaming at him that he was unworthy, and that this was a _Malfoy_ , known for their lies and deceit, "I suppose it will take some time for you to realise it, but I do _not_ love Blaise."

He sealed this with a kiss—Ron's smile grew when the blonde stood on tiptoes to reach him—briefly pressing his lips to the other's. When he noticed Ron's smile, he couldn't help but smile as well, which made Ron's smile widen and before he knew it they were both grinning like sodding idiots, but they were together so it was fine.

When Ron tucked himself in that night, after a long and elaborate conversation with his parents, he closed his eyes and imagined Draco would smile when he told him about his mother's reaction. She had been least surprised, noting that surely the boy had been so scarcely dressed the night he came to visit Ron in order to seduce him. This would surely make the blonde laugh, and though he was unable to reach Draco's cell phone that evening—his battery dead, probably—he felt comfortable knowing he would be able to talk to him without having to hide the phone from his parents in the morning.

 **AN: I love writing this story soooooooo muuuuuch D: I hope you guys are enjoying this! Please leave behind a review~!**


	4. Operation Opera

Operation Opera (4)

 **AN: I just wanted you guys to know that I've always imagined Ron (and the Weasleys) as POC with tan skin and red hair and blue or brown eyes (since Ginny had brown and Ron had blue) and I've been reading a lot about people hating on POC HP characters and I think that's just stupid because POC people need more representation and Harry Potter could have been a great platform for that and it fell short. I also have a none-racist Pansy coming in later who is half-Japanese and before people start that "but Cho Chang" bullshit, she was supposed to be Chinese and has two Korean surnames as her first and last name because I guess that just "sounded" "Asian" and coming from the woman who invented Wolf Wolf I think we're allowed to expect more. So I just wanted to make it clear that yes, Ron is POC. If you don't like that, leave.**

 **I don't know, especially now, this kind of breaks my heart a bit. I'm reading Harry Potter out loud for my boyfriend in Japanese – he is Japanese – and he told me how it's a bit strange for him to hear the characters speak Japanese with their own dialects – Hagrid has a specific "rough" dialect and Olivander uses old-man-Japanese – knowing that none of them are actually Japanese. And of course I** _ **know**_ **that she's British and it would be hard to make all her characters be Japanese but was a little bit more diversity really that much to ask for? Because I've been to England and it's diverse as fuck. Like… most of Europe is. I don't know man. I'm just kind of disappointed, re-reading and realising it is very very white.**

They had agreed on their second date six days later and Ron felt absolutely _delighted_ that he was going to get to see the blonde again. Though they had talked every day, multiple times a day – since having a single long conversation was very hard, with Harry, Hermione and Ginny constantly wanting to spend time with him – he still missed being able to touch Draco's hand or watch his hair gleam. During breakfast he found himself wishing he could have breakfast with the Malfoy instead, wishing he could be there as the blonde enjoyed his toast, one delicate bite at a time. When he showered, all he could think about was seeing Draco naked, which led to more showering, and when his eyes drifted shut with sleep, he prayed one day he would be able to feel the lingering of a kiss, pressed to his lips by Draco's rose ones.

He was head-over-heels _in love_ , and well, it felt pretty much amazing from where he was standing.

Draco had sounded pleased when Ron had told him about his parents' positive reaction, and therefore it had been with regret that he added his bravery had departed him faced with the task of informing his siblings of their date. This hadn't upset the other boy in the slightest. He didn't have brothers or sisters of his own, and did not see it fit to judge the way Ron handled them, since he could not objectively say whether or not it was just. The situation was unfamiliar to Draco, and he had promised he would trust Ron's better judgement of the matter.

Ron was nervous when he knocked on the door leading to Malfoy manor – the gateway had eerily crept open on its own accord – because he had not seen mister Malfoy since the man had sleepily disappeared up the set of marble stairs, and he was half-expecting a sort of terrifying questionnaire. You could never really be sure with the Malfoys, his dad always said.

The door opened in a haste, and Lucius was revealed to Ron, currently fixing his tie correctly around his neck, his eyes focused while his hands moved onto buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Mister Weasley?" he glimpsed up for barely a second and then returned back inside the house, leaving the door open in invitation while he grabbed his coat, "How may I help you?"

"I came to pick up Draco sir," Ron did his best not to stutter, but the whole haphazard happening of things was throwing him off.

Though Lucius appeared to be in minor distress, he was still as regal as ever. He threw a questioning look over his shoulder – one pale eyebrow arched – and buttoned his coat.

"Draco?" he sounded unaware of the existence of his son. Then, he turned properly and realisation met his face, "He was unable to tell you, of course," he spoke more to himself than to Ron, using one hand to release his long golden locks from his coat while he used the other to fix his collar, "He's in his bedroom, but I need to be going, or I'll be late. Will you be able to find him on your own, or would you rather have a help accompany you?"

The idea of _Draco_ and _bedroom_ left him tongue-tied as his brain short-circuited and adjusted to default.

"I'll be f-fine," he rasped out, trying to force all the currently unwanted images from his head.

He was sure the older man had heard the strain in his voice and knew exactly what it meant, but all he did was give Ron one last look, before heading in the direction of what should be the salon.

"Alright then, good night mister Weasley," with one last nod in the redhead's direction, Lucius was gone.

It took Ron a moment to regain himself and realise he was supposed to be looking for Draco. All that had registered from the past few minutes was the fact that he was about to visit the blonde's _bedroom_ , a place he had regarded as sacred ever since he had kissed Draco against his bedroom door. He counted himself lucky that every time he saw Lucius the man was occupied in one way or another, which meant he could not fully focus on scaring the crap out of Ron, and then took resolute steps towards the staircase. There was something Draco had not told him, and by Merlin, Ron hoped it was nothing _bad_ , because if that happened to be the case, he thought he would rather have Lucius rant at him then having to face the issue.

With the images of Draco naked in his bedroom gone, came images of Draco _sick_ in his bedroom. Of Draco wasting away in his bed, of pining in a corner, his skin slick with transpiration and his cheeks flushed with fever and... then the images of Draco naked in his bedroom returned and Ron felt something between terrifying desperation and exhilarating anxiety.

He reached the bedroom in record time, only to find the doors thrown wide open.

Draco's suite was huge, possibly as big as Ron's entire kitchen _and_ living room together, with two tall windows leading to the balcony, both thrown wide open to let in the sun and a cool summer's breeze. The wooden bed overlooked the balcony, positioned perhaps a little awkwardly against the back wall with the foot of the bed placed against it instead of the head. There were dark green drapes, hiding the bed from view, opening up on the right side so Ron could see the green bedding, matching the drapes. The door leading to the bathroom was opened as well, but Ron could only make out a white tub with golden legs set upon the marble floor, and something that resembled a sink in the other room. One wall was hidden behind books and oak racks with framed photos, the racks going up all the way to the ceiling. Between two racks there was an archway visible, that lead to Draco's closet – this fact was proven by the tell-tale trail of clothes strewn from the side room to the bed.

There was a desk against the other wall, and a chaise longue with a small table, atop it a bottle of firewhiskey. There was an easel and drawing blocks set atop one another. Amidst it all was a half-clothed Draco Malfoy, holding one shirt in front of his naked chest and then the other while he looked at his mirror-image.

Black, expensive slacks covered Draco's long legs and pert ass, the fabric tighter around his behind so it was decently accentuated. A tiny sliver of faint pink was visible inches above the dark of the pants, and Ron smiled when he realised the blonde was wearing pink underwear, the colour standing out against his milky skin.

Inches of marble skin tended over the lean muscles in his back, his shoulder blades pulled taut at the action with which his arms moved. It ran down into a curve and then to his plump arse, forming a beautiful arch. His sides were exposed and soft, his abdomen rather taut with his abs defined though not too prominent. There was a fleck of silver that sparkled in the light, right near his navel and Ron marvelled at the display it made in the sun. He noticed a fresh scar on the wonderfully broad hips, the skin a little flushed there, but it did not bother him – it only made Draco's figure that much more appealing, knowing that even he had imperfections. Ironically, a Malfoy's imperfections made them all the more perfect.

"Ron? What—" their eyes locked onto each other in the mirror, a smile playing in the corner of Draco's mouth which meant he was glad to see the redhead. Then, his eyes widened and he bit his lip, "Damnit, I forgot to call you!"

"Is something wrong?" he was happy to at least see that Draco was still _breathing_ which meant things could only be looking up from thereon.

"No, nothing's _wrong_ per say," Draco focused his eyes on the two shirts again, picked one, and threw the other onto the bed. He slid into the soft white fabric and turned to face Ron directly – the movement of chest and arms drew attention to Draco's left arm, for the first time rid of all bandage and cloth, and it was now evident why the blonde hid it from the world. There was a thick, crooked scar running from the dip of his elbow to his wrist – it was angry and pink and looked painful – right where Ronald knew the dark mark had been. He stayed silent for a moment, boring through Ron with his piercing gaze, before continuing almost painfully casual: "my father has a meeting with some stockholders and it turned out they're bringing their sons, so I have to join. I know we were supposed to see a movie tonight, but let's go to the opera instead?"

There was something horribly precarious about the question—as if it was a statement, but an uncertain one—and every single word was wrapped in layers and layers of thick innuendo.

Sometimes, it was _really_ difficult to catch up with the Malfoy's true intentions.

Sometimes, Ron had to stop trying so hard.

"I've never been," he shrugged, trying to get his brain to stop functioning—which was a quite hard feat, surprisingly, "but if you're sure it's alright, I'd love to go."

Draco smiled, something broad and upright that made Ron fall in love all over again.

"Thank you," he replied honestly, the dark edge that had been in his voice before completely gone. He buttoned up his shirt and took a black waistcoat off his bed, adjusting it by the little straps on the back before tucking himself in properly, "you'll need a different jacket though."

"A jacket?" Ron's voice mimicked the words with a clear question mark at the end, his eyes searching Draco's for any answers.

"I'm sure we'll find something in my father's room," Draco quickly slid a black bowtie out one of his drawers. He passed Ron and let his hand slide past the redhead's hip, using the small touch to beckon him.

Ron's body betrayed him, and before his mind could wrap itself around the whole ordeal, he was already following the blonde into the master bedroom.

Not much about the room drew Ron's attention, but the first thing that caught his eye were the pictures placed atop the mantelpiece across from the bed.

The first picture was innocent enough – Lucius Malfoy, smiling with a toddler in his lap, the small blonde boy trying to do a braid in the long blonde hair, pouting as he failed. Draco's hair was so bright it was almost nothing more but a light spot in the picture – Ron felt blinded by Draco as his sun.

There were two pictures in what appeared to be the three broomsticks, each time three Gryffindor students with three Slytherin students – one where they were cheering wildly at a table, clinging their butterbeers together with great zeal, the second where they were posing properly for the camera, arms slung around each other's neck, broad smiles. Ron was positive he had never seen mister Malfoy smile so big, his arms wrapped around what appeared to be a young and stunning Sirius Black, and someone that looked suspiciously much like Harry. Remus and the late professor Snape were also in the picture, in their middle a smaller raven Slytherin grinning – Ron thought he might have seen the guy before, but he couldn't remember.

The fourth however, had Ron back up slightly. He was relatively sure that in it, Lucius Malfoy was kissing James Potter – quite zealously, before the both of them disappeared from the frame. Draco was unperturbed by this, and was reaching up in one of the oak wardrobes for some old boxes he knew his father kept up there.

"Is that—" he could not look away from the sight, the empty frame where the two men had just been engaged in a heavy lip-lock

"Yes," Draco didn't bother looking up, and brought the box to the grand four-poster, back turned to the older boy, "my father's relationship with late mister Potter is a well-kept secret, and I'm sure he would like to keep it that way."

The words were cold and calculated, stern. Ron detected just the undertone of insecurity that hitched his breath near the end, and like that, he was broken from his reverie.

There was no use to cry over spilled pumpkin juice, his mother always said. If Lucius Malfoy had once been involved with James Potter, so be it.

"I won't tell a soul," Ron swore – he tried to press every small and seemingly insignificant bit of _love_ he felt for the boy into the words, all the affection and fondness and sheer _joy_ – he came up behind the slim body and saw it cringe, the smallest of shivers running up Draco's spine. He wrapped his arm around Draco's form delicately, more for his own comfort than for the Malfoy's, truthfully. When Draco leaned back into him, Ron pressed a kiss to his temple and muttered: "I hardly think your father's clothes will fit me though."

"This is one of the boxes my father kept that has mister Potter's stuff," Draco undid the lid, casually brushing his hand over one of Ron's, tight against his belly, "my dad says he was nice and burly too, so I'm sure it'll fit you."

"Only you could make being big sound like a good thing," Ron rolled his eyes, feeling his ears heat up at the blonde's words.

Draco took a black suit jacket from the box, before turning in the tight embrace with a smile so lecherous Ron felt his knees go weak at the sight of it.

"Ron, I find it an incredible turn-on that you're nice and broad like that," his eyes shone with amusement, the curve of his lip deliciously distracting. One hand cupped a blushing cheek, pink tinging tan, and he brought Ron's face down, so their mouths hovered just inches apart, "it's fucking sexy Weasley."

They kissed, urgent and open-mouthed, and Ron was just so _happy_ he got to taste the Malfoy again, that every single doubt he might have had before disappeared like snow before the sun. It seemed to go on for hours, in the best of ways, every single brush of their tongues sending sparks up Ron's spine, the tingles setting his entire core alight.

With their lips parting, Ron growled at the sight of Draco's mouth. His lips were dark red now, much redder than their usual pink colour, and the knowledge that Ron had done that, made him feel insanely proud.

He was helped into the jacket by slim hands and fine fingers and Draco pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips afterwards, before leading him out of the bedroom, and into the hallway. They were silent while they walked, but only because Ron was still feeling dazed about the ferocious kisses he had just been fed – his whole body felt bouncy and deliciously warm, as if Draco had set him alight – his smile giddy when he reached for Draco's hand.

Draco didn't say anything but let him take it, granting him with a miniscule smirk in return.

They travelled to the opera house by floo, arriving in a grand oval room that was clothed with marble tiles all around. People dressed ridiculously fancy were swarming the hall as they left the fireplaces, decorated with white stone and sculptures of the same mineral.

Ron felt rather uncomfortable with some of the people looking at his shabby clothes with disdain. If he had known he would seem so out-of-place, despite the fact that he had deemed himself properly dressed when he left home, he would have changed. When the rather rude looks travelled to Draco however, they disappeared and most people were actually nodding politely at the blonde wherever he passed.

All Draco did was nod in acknowledgement and hold Ron's hand tighter, feeling the tenseness enter his body.

They spotted Lucius amongst the crowd relatively easy. The man oozed superiority wherever he went, and even though he was just standing in the forecourt, glass in one hand, other on his hip, it seemed as if somehow, everyone was painfully aware of his presence, and all movement in the room resolved around him.

To Ron it appeared that Draco, although still in his teens, also somewhat had the same effect, since people immediately noticed he had arrived, and acted accordingly.

He was really damn glad he was used to people staring – due to being Harry's friend for so long – and that Draco did not stop holding his hand, because he was quite sure their linked digits was the only thing stopping him from feeling like a _complete_ outcast.

In their greeting to the older Malfoy and his three colleagues they were courteous, as Ron was sure Lucius expected, and they were then pointed towards the antechamber, where the sons of the co-workers were apparently staying. Though Ron had seen how close Lucius and Draco usually were, they were now strictly formal, and he figured it was thanks to the three other men present in the group. If the men were in any way dazed at the fact that the blonde refused to let go of another boy's hand, they didn't show it, and Ron felt rather lucky for it.

"I have to warn you," Draco's voice came suddenly, and his lips were almost startlingly close – so close that Ron heard him clearly even though his voice was dropped low, his breath warming against the redhead's earlobe – making Ron shiver pleasantly though involuntarily, "these guys, they're not very likeable. So just ignore them in a polite way."

"How the hell do you _ignore_ someone in a polite way?" Ron asked, confused, with the nerves shining through his voice.

All Draco did was smirk, fingers tightening their hold.

They approached a group consisting out of two brunettes and one raven, but they had been spotted long before they even headed their way. Ron had noticed the three boys by the tall, golden ashtray when they had entered, and their eyes had not left the pair until they were spotted. One brunette was rather tall and towered over the other two by almost a head, and the other brunette had a slightly toned skin, whilst the raven was almost unnaturally pale.

Before they even spoke a word, Ron was relatively sure he was not going to like them, their sneers and mocking attitude a blunt indicator.

"Thank Merlin, we thought you'd never be showing up!" the raven was the first to speak, showing off his shimmering white teeth when they were within reasonable distance.

"It's nice to see you again Draco," the smaller brunette smirked, eyes filled with a glee Ron was unable to place properly.

"Likewise," there was a small, almost imperceptible nod, but other than that, Draco remained as distant and closed-off on the outside as he always was.

"Would you like a smoke?" the tallest boy offered, fishing a pack out of the inner pocket of his robes – he was balancing his own cigarette between his slim fingers, ashes nearly tipping off.

"No thank you," Draco declined sternly, "I quit."

There was a silent voice inside Ron's head that was wondering about the newly revealed fact – the other more bulbous voice was far too busy loudly commenting on the way Draco's hips curved when he favoured his one leg.

"You've been quitting a lot these days," Draco pursed his lips as soon as the comment left the smaller brunette's mouth, as if he already knew what came next, "Blaise's been counting how long it's been since he last saw you naked. He's not pleased."

"He misses you something terrible," the raven added, "even got the maid fired because of it!"

"It was the maid's _son_ , actually," Draco commented dryly, and as soon as Ron caught on – the words that had just been spoken rushing up and breaking through him – his hold on the blonde's hand turned so tight it was uncomfortable, "the fact that he got an innocent woman fired only shows how utterly thoughtless he is."

"I suppose it was rather inconsiderate of him to shag someone else," there was a careless shrug and Ron fumed on the inside, "I'm actually rather surprised he hasn't moved on. Are you really that stunning naked?"

Ron felt his ears redden and he was about to say something, _anything_ , when Draco beat him to it: "it's not about how stunning you are when you're naked, it's about what you do when you're naked, and when it comes to that, yes, I'm _very_ sure I could teach you a little something."

His voice was a cover-up of sickly sweet and even though the words were not directed at him, Ron felt their impact immediately. From the glazed looks the three boys had, he was sure they felt it too – something Ron had come to fondly refer to as 'the Draco Malfoy effect'.

"I would be one very eager student," the raven teased – which brought a whole different feeling to Ron – and the redhead felt his anger rise like bile in his throat.

"I have no doubt that you would be, but I'm afraid I'm a very demanding teacher and you could not satisfy my needs, even if you tried _very_ hard," his bite was back and Ron literally saw the other boy deflate at the words, "you wouldn't want to put yourself through the humiliation, I've been far too spoiled in the past to settle for _you_."

Ron felt proud at the comeback, glad to see that Draco had not left his cocky attitude behind at school, and felt a silly smirk tug at his lips.

When Draco then let go of his hand and opted for wrapping an arm around his waist instead, Ron's cheeks heated with the thought of what _that_ would make the three boys think.

They looked at him as if they hadn't even really noticed him until then, their eyes slightly wider than they were before, and their faces the perfect example of utter _awe_.

Ron had felt fortunate at dating the Malfoy before. Now, he realised he should perhaps also be honoured, since he was sure dating another would never earn him such looks of jealousy and resentment.

And though being glared at out of spite was not at all pleasant, it was okay if it meant he got to feel the blonde's weight rest into his side, the smell of his cherry shampoo clouding his senses.

When a voice resounded through the room to announce that the performance would begin shortly, they joined the adults before a host lead them to their seating arrangements.

They had a separate compartment to their disposal, apparently, and Ron felt a little uncomfortable, knowing it must have been expensive seats. Draco took place on the second row, whilst the four older men sat on the first, and the other boys followed his example. Ron ended up next to the shortest brunette, whilst the crude raven happily took a seat on Draco's other side.

Draco paid no attention to him, and instead leaned closer into Ron's side, sending him a careful smile.

"This is your first time right?" he queried delicately, voice not exactly a whisper, but dropped down politely as to not disturb the other men on the front row, discussing business still, "I hope you'll enjoy, I saw this piece before and found it rather amusing."

Ron grinned, sliding a finger over the palm of the pale hand as he settled himself more comfortably in his chair.

"I'm kind of excited. Everyone's always so mysterious about opera," he admitted, "It makes you wonder what the big deal's about."

Draco chortled softly, earning the attention of the other three boys – even though they had been glancing at them the entire time – playfully catching Ron's wandering finger in his own.

"You'll see soon," the blonde promised, "well, _hear_ would be more accurate. I'm personally always amazed by the fact that even though they're chanting in a different language, every word is somehow still understandable. Even if you close your eyes, it's still possible to comprehend what they're talking about, because you can sense the emotion in their singing."

He beamed and in that moment Ron felt such an intense _fondness_ for the beautiful boy next to him, he found himself unable to resist to the temptation, and claimed the pink lips to himself.

With their lips connected Ron felt the smile and it made him want to smile along – instead he adjusted his head and allowed Draco to grasp onto his neck, prying his lips apart with an eager tongue.

"You still taste like watermelon," Ron revelled when they parted, the sensation of the kiss leaving him so putty he had to rest his forehead into Draco's nape, currently much too excited to feel silly.

"You're still daft," Draco laughed breathlessly, Ron's unconsciously traced patterns on his palm making him feel entirely too giddy, "are you comfortable?"

Ron looked up through his red bangs.

"Very," he confirmed.

Draco just laughed again.

 **AN: thank you for reaaading! I hope you guys are enjoying this~! Let me know!**


	5. We're taking it slow

We're taking it slow (5)

Ron was guided home by the blonde this time, instead of the other way around, and they apparated to right in front of the burrow. There was a short, awkward moment wherein Ron glanced upwards to confirm that all the lights were out, which meant everyone had gone to bed already. With this established, Ron knew it was safe to invite Draco inside the house for something to drink before they were forced to part.

"So, erm…" he hesitated briefly, the hand in his own being squeezed to mush – even though he realised it must hurt, Draco didn't even flinch, "would you like to come in?"

"Yes," Draco nodded sternly, showing his honesty, "but I can't. My father expects me to be home shortly, since it's so late already. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," even though Ron was disappointed, he could not feel too sorry for himself when he was on the receiving end of Draco's kind words and sweet voice – something he had heard before, but didn't tire of, after all those years of receiving nothing but sneers, "maybe some other time."

"I would like that," Draco agreed, "I hope you enjoyed the night."

"I really did, thank you for the new experience," he felt a goofy grin creep up his face but couldn't stop it, though he tried hard, "I never imagined I would have _that_ much fun at something I always figured was just a stuffy occasion."

"Stuffy occasions aren't usually fun," the blonde smirked, "it's just a matter of going with the right people."

"Are you insinuating I am the right people mister Malfoy?" Ron teased lightly, thoroughly enjoying the playful side of Draco.

He was such a tease on the phone, but having him tease in real life, was just _that_ much better.

"Actually, I was insinuating _I_ 'm right people," Draco purred, leaning in closer – his hands slid up Ron's chest, and he immediately felt broad palms cup his back, right above the curve of his arse, as if afraid to move down further, "but you'll do too."

A mutual smirk had their lips meeting, and the hands moved more purposely, exerting pressure to keep Draco's body in place. His fingers brushed the fabric of Draco's black slacks, and trembled with nerves. He felt Draco take control of the kiss and the blonde's pale arms wrapped around his neck as their bodies melted together, a feeling he was sure he would never get enough of.

The kiss deepened and a moan passed between their mouths. Ron felt his cheeks blush at the sound, even though he wasn't completely sure he was the one that made it, since it sounded so sensual – a noise he had never thought he could be possible of creating – and lewd.

"Ronald," Draco licked at his bottom lip when he pulled back suddenly, and Ron felt all the blood in his body rush down, his spine trembling at the sight of the pink tongue darting out, "hold me properly."

His tone was demanding and bossy, and with that single command he locked their lips again. His hands released the hold on the red hair, and he moved them down to grab Ron's and guide them.

Right onto his ass.

Ron was quite sure he was about to faint, but the thought that fainting when he was feeling up Draco Malfoy would probably be a very inconvenient thing as it might mean he would never get a chance to do so again, kept him standing.

At first he just kind of let them lie there, whilst Draco's hands moved around his waist, grasping onto his shoulder blades. Then, when he figured this was one of those once in a lifetime experiences, he cupped his palms around the cheeks and squeezed gently.

He was awed to find that the cheeks filled his broad hands perfectly, as if they were specifically made to be held by him. For some reason this encouraged him, and he kneaded them feeling the flexible globes press into his palms deliciously.

This time it was Draco that moaned, which Ron knew with one hundred percent certainty. If his own expression of agreement had been lewd, Draco's was beyond obscene, a sound nearly pornographic. Hearing it brought another shiver coursing through his body and his whole core felt aglow.

As soon as he realised the kiss had roused a rather unfortunate predicament from him, all his thoughts could only focus on not letting Draco know, and that was _very_ hard to do when you were pressed up against one another.

It was as if Draco could immediately feel the change and he pulled back reluctantly. His eyelashes fluttered beautifully, and Ron could only stare.

"What's wrong? You stilled completely," he sounded somewhere between accusing and distrustful, and Ron knew he was also a little hurt.

"N-no!" his brain rushed to catch up with the words and even the single syllable came out jumbled.

In order to prove the stuttered statement he pulled Draco even closer, using the hands he had posed on the delicious arse and then realised that that had _not_ been a good idea.

"Oh," Draco blinked twice, and then a sneaky smirk grew in the corner of his lips – red due to their kisses, Ron noticed with another deep blush – his hands coming round from Ron's back to his chest, "I see."

"I'm really sorry," the redhead mumbled in embarrassment, his ears turning red in his utter shame, "I didn't mean to…"

"Shh," Draco pressed a slender finger to his lips to hush him, "it's okay, I'm rather flattered."

"Draco," Ron whined, the banter not helping his flaming cheeks.

The blonde chuckled airily, grasping onto Ron's shirt and giving him a quick peck.

"Fine, fine," the laugh was still clear in his voice, which was just plain beautiful to Ron, and he loved how he was now one of those people that could make Draco Malfoy's voice _smile_ , "things like this can wait, we don't have to move so fast. Let's just stick to making out for a while, alright?"

Ron nodded his eager agreement. He had no intention of rushing things, it was just that his body happened to betray him every now and then.

"I really should go, my father will be worried," he sounded remorseful, but then his eyes lit up and Ron just _knew_ he was up to something.

He pressed into Ron's taller body completely, his thigh seemingly purposely rubbing up against Ron. His lips touched Ron's warm earlobe and sent a chill down his spine, the sensation of the cool breath against his heated skin too much for him.

"Ron," Draco purred deviously, flicking out his tongue sensually, "tonight, after I've gone and you go to bed to take care of your little problem, I want there to be only one person in your head, and that person better be me."

The gasp that Ron let out – somewhere between a groan and a huff – was stolen by Draco's eager lips prying at his mouth.

Before Ron could win the sense to push back into the kiss, there was a soft popping sound and Draco had disappeared, leaving Ron in a rather awkward position, groping thin air.

That night, after Ron had carefully followed every word of Draco's little speech, changing the word 'bed' to 'shower' because of his current sleeping arrangement with Harry, he sneaked downstairs one more time to ring up the blonde.

The tone went to the answering machine immediately, indicating Draco had shut off his mobile, or more likely that the battery was dead.

"I know we're taking it slow," he said, no introduction or even a simple 'hello', because he knew Draco would know it was him, before he even spoke, "But I just want you to know, I'm falling for you."

 **AN: a small update this time! Let me know if you're interested in the update!**


	6. Reciprocation is Key

6\. Reciprocation is Key

They were eating ice cream two days later, seated in a comfortable silence that was secretly driving Ron a little crazy. He looked forward to his dates with Draco because it was the only time that he didn't have to hear him speak through the static of a crappy telephone line, and the fact that he was being deprived of his lovely voice was peeving him a little.

Still, he held his thoughts to himself, because he had a pale hand curled into his own and sweet ice cream and in Ron's books, that was pretty much amazing.

"Ronald," the sudden sound of hearing his name from those rosy lips pulled him from his thoughts and he turned to watch Draco properly. The blonde had his eyes fixed on the horizon, staring straight ahead as he took another lick of his ice cream, "since you were so honest the other night, I think it's only fair if I'm true with you as well…"

There was a sudden poignant pause and Ron's eyes widened slightly. A hundred new thoughts began racing through his mind and he felt his air supply cut off with tension – what if Draco was going to be honest and tell him it wasn't working the way he had hoped. What if by coming clean with Draco, Ron had dug his own hole, ending all the future chances he could have gotten if only he had kept his mouth shut?

"I've already fallen for you," confessions from Draco Malfoy were not like confessions from anyone else.

There was no sense of nervosa or discomfort, like Ron had felt when he had first uttered the words, instead it was all crystal clear, like a mere statement.

It was something to be envied, Ron decided, before he leant down and sampled Draco's ice cream through his mouth.

" _Mom_! I'm not telling him to come over! We already had plans and—"

"Ronald Weasley, leaving that boy by himself would be terribly irresponsible!" Molly turned away from her laundry to glare at her son, "Whatever you planned you can very well do here!"

"But mom, his dad leaves for business all the time and Draco is used to sometimes spending some time by himself," Ron rolled his eyes at his mother's apparent ignorance, fuming on the inside.

When Draco had announced that his father would be gone for work for three days, and that this meant they could stay in and play chess all day, Ron had been ecstatic, to say the least. He had never properly gone over to the boy's house, and the idea of spending the day there with him was very appealing to Ron. He had also rejoiced in the idea of perhaps finding out a little more about the beautiful blonde, through learning more about his environment.

His mother was currently doing a very good job of messing with those plans.

"Besides, I was going to—"

"Sneak off again?" a voice called from behind them, and Molly turned away from the sheet she was currently folding.

The twins and Harry were looking at him as if he had grown an extra head. He cursed inwardly – at this rate, he was never going to be able to see the blonde.

"I don't _sneak off_!" he blazed, huffing petulantly.

"No, of course not," Fred and George laughed, "you take long solitary walks, or fall asleep in places where nobody can find you."

"For Merlin's sake, discuss this some other time," Molly scolded her sons, giving a vague wave with her wand which sent the linens flying, "it's not decent to keep the boy waiting. Tell Draco he's expected here!"

" _Mum_!" Ronald hissed.

"You talk to Malfoy?" Harry blinked a little stupidly and Ron wanted to brain himself with something sufficiently hard.

"We're… friends," he stumbled over his words not because he didn't know how to explain what they were, but because he wasn't very sure himself.

Now that he thought about it, what were they really? All the touching hardly counted as friendship, and their fondness for one another had already been established. They dated. Did that make them…

" _Friends_?" Fred spat the word as if it tasted foul in his mouth, and George added: "you're making it sound as if he's likeable beyond his physique!"

Ron felt his ears burn and his mouth dropped open in shock. Molly let out a squeak of disapproval, flipping her wand to land the folded goods into the basket.

"George Weasley! How dare you be so rude!" she held the basket against her waist as she pointed a threatening finger at her identical sons, "Ronald, we are done talking about this, either you tell him or else I will! And imagine how awkward that would be, huh!"

She left with a finality in her voice that told Ron he would be a fool to argue, for she would find a punishment that would make him regret even bringing it up in the first place.

So it was that Ron found himself pacing the floor of the front door a mere ten minutes later. The idea of having Draco in his house with his brothers – despite their apparent attraction towards the blonde – was not a desired one. Ron had looked forward to spending the day with him, but doing so at the burrow felt wrong. As if he was purposely luring Draco into a place where he would be subjected to the scrutiny of Ronald's meddling siblings.

There was also the fact that Ron's plan of not letting go of the pale boy for the day had now been destroyed, but he decided to ignore that part – spending time with Draco was good enough, really.

The sound of the apparition pop shook the redhead from his thoughts. Before the visitor could even knock, Ron yanked the door open, revealing Draco Malfoy.

He was wearing navy blue shorts that had every logical thought short-circuited, his brain adjusting to default; an entirely too lovely amount of marble thighs was shown, and a slim stripe of excess skin was bared along the seams of his ruby shirt. All these colours Draco wore that Ron had never know about just made him want to swoon or kiss or cry – there was this whole other side to a boy he had hated for years, and if he had only seen that sooner, things could have gone so differently.

Draco was carrying a bag over one shoulder and holding a sort of white tulips in the other, the stems curling around one another.

"You brought me flowers?" Ron tried not to stare too hard, but it was difficult, his eyes naturally drawn to the flesh.

"They're for your mother, idiot," Draco smirked.

Ron blushed at his own straightforwardness, embarrassed of what he'd just blurted out. The corner of Draco's mouth went up in half a smile and he chortled lightly: "I'll bring you flowers next time."

This only made Ron blush harder, and he spluttered indignantly. With a roll of his eyes Draco gave Ron a quick peck on the cheek before shifting his bag to the other shoulder and querying boldly: "aren't you going to ask me in?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded fervently, the heat rising to his ears, "yeah, it's just, when we go in I can't…" he paused.

Draco glanced at him with an eyebrow raised in question. Ron leered back, before leaning down properly and locking Draco's frame into his own with both hands, connecting their lips into a real kiss. Immediately he had pale fingers tangled in his hair and Draco's body melting into his own.

When they parted Draco wore a sleek smirk on his face and Ron felt his lips tingle at the previous contact. It was impossible to deny; he was head over heels. He even revelled in the way Draco's fingers brushed down his neck as he pulled back from the embrace.

"We're going to play chess right?" Draco smirked when Ron's eyes stayed locked on his lips, knowing exactly what was going through the boy's mind, "I brought my own pieces."

He indicated his backpack to testify to his statement and Ron felt this inexplicable fondness for the blonde settle in his stomach. He nodded avidly and then led him into the house by his hand – he couldn't care about any comments his siblings would give him, because Draco's hand was soft and warm in his own.

They passed by the kitchen where Ron had left his pieces before and Molly was cleaning some dishes. She looked up as they entered, her smile widening when her look travelled not-so-subtly from their hands to Draco's pale thighs.

"Good morning mister Malfoy," Molly greeted the younger boy heartily, drying her hands on a towel, "aren't you looking smart today."

There was an obvious innuendo that was poorly hidden – so much so Ron wanted to brain himself – but Draco merely smiled, handing the woman the white flowers.

"I resent that misses Weasley," his smile widened when she stared in awe at the offered gift, "I daresay I _always_ look smart."

Ron rolled his eyes at that, "so cocky."

When Molly turned around to put the flowers in a vase the blonde leaned in closer to the taller redhead, bringing his mouth to his ear, "you have no idea."

The redhead blushed a bright red at the comment, his palms suddenly remarkably sweaty. It didn't help that Draco seemed more than aware of the effect that he had on the older boy, pulling back with a broad grin.

Ron tried his hardest not to seem too phased as he took his chessboard off the kitchen counter and then decidedly leaded the blond outside with a firm hand still holding onto the smaller one tightly.

He spotted his siblings and Harry and Hermione seated near the trees in the backyard, where there was some shade to hide from the scorching sun. Inwardly cursing as he had wanted to take Draco there to play their game, he decided to head the other way – and idea which in itself was rather genius, but proved mute when Charlie spotted them and waved them over.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bill howled when he realised his youngest brother had been attempting an escape, "Draco is _our_ friend too!"

The twins seemed to vigorously disagree, and Ron cursed under his breath at his brother's insistence. Draco seemed mildly amused, though he took pity on the tall redhead, soothing with a quiet tone: "Ronald, we don't have to go over there if you don't want to."

"I wish that was true," despite the simplicity of the statement, it carried a lot of depth to it, and Draco seemed to pick it up rather easily.

As if it had been a mere accident, he slipped his hand from Ronald's to avoid any more awkwardness that would surely ruin their date. Ron was grateful for it too – how he could have ever thought of the Malfoy boy as anything less than most considerate was beyond his own wits.

He settled the board down near his siblings and friends where there was a little shade but they could still enjoy the bright summer sun and Draco carefully set down his bag so he could remove his own pieces.

Ron had only briefly noticed the blonde's chessboard before, but now that Draco was unpacking his things he was able to take a better look. It was obvious to him the pieces must have been expensive, and they were made from a green sort of stone instead of the traditional black or white. They looked clean and polished and _important_ , as Draco treated them with the utmost care.

"They're gorgeous," Ron beamed when Draco took out his queen, the light catching in the stone prettily and accentuating the shine, "were they a gift?"

The blond nodded but didn't take his eyes of his pieces as he set them on the board.

"My father brought them from China," he elaborated kindly, "they're made from Chinese jade, a little heavy."

He offered Ron his King before he could set it down, a look of determination on his face. At first the sentiment struck Ronald as slightly odd, but when he took over the piece he thought he understood. They were obviously something Draco held very dear, and for him to allow Ron to _touch_ them was most likely a bigger deal than the Malfoy made it out to be.

"Man…" he gave a little sigh of surprise when he really weighed the piece in his hand – saying it was a little heavy was definitely an understatement.

Draco chuckled softly at the reaction, "always so eloquent."

"They're just…" Ron didn't want to say anything stupid, but he didn't want to say _nothing_ either, "really pretty."

It seemed that it was a silly thing to say altogether, as Draco just chortled again. Ronald felt the tips of his ear burn red, but the blond had that unreadable smile playing on his lips that told Ron that he had done well anyway.

They started the game off easy enough, with no pestering from any of his siblings, which Ron really appreciated. It seemed that Draco was indeed as serious about chess as he had seemed to be, and they spent most of the time playing in quiet, both deep in thought.

The silence seemed to last forever – nothing but the scrape of the chess pieces, the distant sound of birds, Fred's silent snores and his friends' silent murmuring and that way Draco's wrists seemed to sing as he brought his fingers to his lips in thought – until suddenly a phone rang.

Draco's mobile flew out from his back pocket and called in a deep male voice: "your father, mister Malfoy."

The blond threw an apologetic look Ron's way, but to be honest, since he started dating the younger Malfoy boy he had also kind of grown accustomed with the way him and his father interacted. It was true that the older Malfoy was definitely a right-out prick to most people, but Draco seemed to bring out a fondness in his father, and watching the ice-king thaw with just a quirk of Draco's lips continued to amuse Ronald to no end.

"Father?" Draco spoke in that distinctive tone Ronald had come to refer to fondly as the _daddy_ tone – he sounded as smooth as always, but with a little sweetness there that was different from how he addressed Ron, "aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

There was a little sound of a reply and Draco snorted, "I don't know… did you eat too much ice cream like that time in Saquarra? Did you get drunk and pass out in front of the Eiffel tower? Are you going to make me go on forever?"

It sounded like Lucius was laughing, and Ron had to cough to hide a snort when Draco threw him a stern look. The stern look turned into a frown and suddenly Draco's eyes widened in shock.

"He… they _sang_?"

A loud sound came from the other sound of the phone and the phone flew a bit further away from Draco as he winced. It seemed like Lucius was going off on a rant, because the other blond tried his hardest to soothe him with small tutting sounds.

"No!" he suddenly exclaimed, "It was fine but ever since the opera he's seemed to have lost his mind," Ron's ears perked up at the mention of this, _are they talking about me?_ He tried to meet the blonde's eyes, but he suddenly seemed very interested in the grooves in Ron's chess-board, "don't worry, I'm not even at the house now…" there was a shrill noise and Draco rolled his eyes, "don't be so plain father. I'll tell him," he rolled his eyes a second time, "yes, I'll call you tonight. I'm terribly sorry, you know how he gets sometimes. I'll handle it."

After a couple of seconds the phone shut off and fluttered around Draco's head. Finally the grey eyes raised to meet Ron's, and the redhead felt relief flooding through him immediately. Draco didn't seem angry with him after all.

"My father says hello," he gave a silly little grin, as if maybe that wasn't _exactly_ how Lucius had put it.

"Is something wrong?" when it seemed that Draco was not about to reveal the exact content of the conversation, Ron felt it necessary to insist.

After all, if Lucius was worried about Draco's safety, something terrible might have just happened and that very idea made Ron's stomach clench.

The blond was hesitant, but only because of the presence of Ron's siblings – his eyes flit to them and back again quick enough for Ron to almost miss it.

"Blaise is an idiot," he stated matter-of-factly, "he sent my father singing love-letters. Explicit love-letters. Whilst he was in a meeting. In Paris."

Ronald's mouth fell half-way open before he had the decency to stop it from going any further. Although it was true that mister Malfoy had turned out not to be as absolutely horrible as the redhead had first imagined him to be, he was a force to be reckoned with, and Ron knew he would probably not appreciate being put on the spot like that in front of people he was supposed to be doing business with. Blaise Zabini was a complete asshat, but he did have some impressive balls on him, Ronald had to give him that.

"Why would he send _your father_ …" he stopped at the look of utter disbelief that graced Draco's face, and realised the blonde was doing his best not to roll his eyes. Suddenly, it clicked, " _oh_."

"Yeah," Draco's look softened at the grumpy demeanour that took over the redhead, "deciding to ignore him may not have been my smartest move."

As if on cue, Molly appeared in the doorway, followed closely by none other than...

"Mister Malfoy?" she called to Draco, getting the group's attention, "Your friend is here."

"Oh come _on_ ," the blonde hissed under his breath when he realised that his so-called _friend_ was Blaise Zabini.

He got on his feet when the dark boy gave Molly a thankful smile and the woman retreated back in the house – Ron immediately followed him. He wasn't sure _why_ the Zabini boy was here, but it couldn't mean much good, really, if the boy was resorting to _stalking_ now.

"What are you doing here Zabini?" Draco's voice was cool like ice in the warm summer breeze, and though Zabini acted like it didn't phase him, his previous smirk faltered.

"I should be asking you that babe!" the raven's voice was not nearly as composed, and took on a shrill edge near the end, as his eyes greedily roved over the blonde's body, "You've replaced me with a _redhead_?! He has _freckles_!"

The way he said it made Ron believe that freckles were very dirty and the root of all evil – the way Draco rolled his eyes convinced Ron the Malfoy thought otherwise.

"We're playing _chess_ ," Draco stated plainly, "I fail to see how redheadedness and freckles have any relation to a skill in the game."

"Don't go smart on me," Blaise seethed, his fists balling, "you took him to the _opera_! THE OPERA!"

His voice reached a new pitch that made the Weasleys shudder – not even Ginny reached such heights.

Ronald felt the ridiculous need to wrap himself completely around the smaller blond grow with every second they stood there. He wanted to protect the other boy, even though he wasn't sure what of and _why_ – all he knew was that _no one_ had the right to raise their voice at the blond, and he felt like he needed to educate the Zabini about his less-than-fitting behaviour. Dear Merlin. Was he turning into a Malfoy himself?

"Are you still associating with those three?" Ronald immediately knew who the blond was referring to – the three bratty boys they met at the opera, "I swear they're bad for your health."

"Pansy told me you got rid of your mark!" Blaise accused with a pointed finger towards the redhead, "that little twink made you _scar yourself_ and then puts his head on your shoulder as if it's _his_?"

The redhead balled his fists – as if resting a head on a shoulder was such a bad thing to do! It was hardly that memorable, and he couldn't believe those three annoying brats had felt the need to share all this information with Blaise. Sure, the night had been absolutely divine for Ronald, but was it really something that the Zabini boy needed to get so upset about? He was the one that had cheated, for Merlin's sake!

Behind them, the others shared a look amongst themselves. They had never asked about the bandages they had all noticed the first time Draco visited, but it seemed that some of their hunches proved to be correct.

"You're delirious," Draco insisted, "If you're going to sprout nonsense, you should leave."

The deep affection Ronald felt for the blond only increased by tenfold as he stood there – lying blatantly in the face of his former lover – all so he wouldn't jeopardise Ron's reputation amongst his siblings. He needed a kiss. Or to hold his hand.

Zabini took a threatening step closer and growled: "he-"

He was cut off however, when both Charlie and Bill decided they had had enough of the raven's antics, and both got up their feet as well. Both quite bulky and rather tall, they made an almost equally imposing sight as a seething Malfoy, and Blaise faltered.

He seemed to contemplate his next actions, and then snarled, "fine! I hear your father is in France now? I was just thinking this would be a fine time for us to... reunite."

Ron's eyebrow twitched. His knuckles crackled ominously and Draco seemed to contemplate whether or not to let him go at the other boy.

"Blaise," when he spoke next his tone was so uncaring the group shuddered, "You do not interest me. Leave."

The Zabini boy's eyes widened almost comically.

"I don't _interest_ you?" his voice shook – with disbelief and pain, Ronald thought it was a bit of both, "I stood by your side for _years_ and-"

Draco laughed – hollow and a little scary and Ronald felt it in goose bumps all up his arm. It was a laugh that reminded him of much darker times and darker days and darker men.

"Don't remind me," he almost spat – but only _almost_ because Malfoy's don't _spit_ about such trivial things, "years of fear and cowering and justifying unjustifiable things. To think I was foolish enough to ever put even an _ounce_ of trust in you," he shrugged almost nonchalantly, "I was naive. Trust me when I say I will not make the same mistake again."

It seemed that Blaise was rendered speechless. His shoulders slumped and he stared at the grass for a long while. Ronald could feel the tension radiate from Draco's stiff figure, and knew he felt absolutely humiliated at having had to expose so much of himself in front of Ron's siblings – people he barely even _knew_ for Merlin's sake!

Eventually Blaise lifted his gaze again. His shoulders still slumped, he said resolutely: "I'll be waiting for you at the Manor. We can continue later," and then turned on his heel.

They waited until he retreated back inside the Burrow before everyone let out a collective sigh. Draco shot the older Weasley brothers a grateful look before he turned to Ronald.

"Are you alright?" he said in his sweetest all-business tone.

Ron blinked stupidly at the question – he ought to be asking Draco that, honestly! – and then nodded deftly.

"I'm sorry," the blond apologised, suddenly very interested in his own shoes, "I had no idea he would-"

"Draco it's not your fault," Ron hurried to cut him off, unwilling to let him apologise for something that was out of his control. He put his hands on the narrow shoulders and hoped it sufficed for now, "he's absolutely nutters!"

"You shouldn't go back home tonight Draco," Bill chimed in, "I don't trust that guy one bit! You can stay here for the night."

At this Draco lifted his head towards the older brothers and rolled his eyes, "you Weasleys, so quick to the rescue. I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

"Draco no offence but," Ron gave the lithe figure a little look and squeezed the slim shoulders to accentuate his next point, "he could probably snap you in two."

The blonde looked absolutely appalled at the accusation and Ron hurried to explain further, "I'm sure you're utterly capable with your wand but Zabini looks like a bodybuilder and he could probably beat you in a fist-fight!"

"Although a fist-fight is probably not what he has in mind," Charlie supplied helpfully – which earned him a glare from his youngest brother and the pretty blond.

"If he wanted to hurt me he would have done so by now," Draco said sternly – his voice sounding with finality, "I am not a toddler. Don't coddle me."

He sat back down in front of the chess board, and the look in his eyes told him he was already contemplating his next move. Ron shared a look with his oldest brothers but relented – he wasn't going to let that raven Slytherin ruin his precious time with Draco, and fighting with the younger blonde was something he had been able to avoid so far and would continue to do so at all costs.

That night Draco refused to even let Ronald guide him home, apparently still a little upset at the redhead's lack of confidence in his strength. Ronald couldn't really take his words back now though – it wasn't hard to see who was physically stronger, and though Ron knew Draco was quick with his wand, he also knew he would be hesitant to pull it on his formerly best friend.

It was funny how a couple of months ago he wouldn't have doubted that Draco was malicious enough to curse his best friend, but now that he had gotten to know the _real_ Draco a little better, he knew that he had a pure heart – and even though his friend had wronged him, he would never dream of inflicting him physical harm. He had had enough of that in the war.

He went to bed with a heavy heart. Harry was treating him a little coldly because he hadn't told the raven about his newly developed friendship with the Malfoy, and Draco hadn't called him to say goodnight, probably still a little cross with him. There was an unsettling swirl coiling in his stomach, and for the longest time he stared up at his ceiling, unable to catch sleep.

 **AN: it was either going to be a really long chapter or a really short one and since I was already spell-checking anyway I figured why not and made it a long one. I hope everyone's enjoying this and do leave me a review please~ reviews are love!**


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